


The Company We Keep

by LakotaSunDancer



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dealing with a parent's illness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Freaking love Elrond. So much, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakotaSunDancer/pseuds/LakotaSunDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...and the house of Elrond was a refuge for the weary and the oppressed...."</p><p> </p><p>A guest at Imladris receives some unexpected support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Company We Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> I wouldn't count this as my best piece of writing, in all honesty, so I hope there may be some of you who will enjoy it regardless of its mistakes.
> 
> This is a shameless self-insert, really. We learned recently that my dad may have cancer for the third time, and so I did what I do best, and I panicked. Completely.
> 
> And then I wrote this as a way to vent and also as a way to comfort myself. Elrond has been my favorite since I was a little girl, and these days, I often find myself wishing that Rivendell was a real place. 
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this in a way to those who have stepped in during this difficult time, particularly my favorite professor who has been incredibly gracious and kind to me when I've needed it most. 
> 
> Anywho, please be gentle, as this is a very personal piece for me. I hope that this might be a comfort for someone else in a similar situation, and that you enjoy it, even though it's pretty rough.

She was in the parlor when everything shattered, pieces of the walls she’d so carefully constructed splintering and cracking and crashing to the floor in tiny glimmering shards. This time yesterday, she was peaceful and carefree in the gardens of Imladris. And this time yesterday, she had no idea that in 24 short hours, she’d be kneeling on the tile floor, shivering in the cold grip of uncertainty. 

Oh, how things had changed. 

The faint sound of hurried footsteps sounded in the hall, and yet, she found she didn’t really care. Let them come. Let them find her in all her pathetic glory. At least she’d be telling the truth for once these days. 

Nothing had been the same since her father’s illness had taken hold. The last two years were a whirlwind of tears, foul-smelling medicines, and worry, and she was damn sick of it all. They’d managed to cure his ailments, but the disease had taken everything from everyone, and it had thrown her down every bit as hard. 

Her parents had sent her to The Last Homely House in the hope that time spent away from home under the careful supervision of the Elves might bring her back to her old self. She was happy to be there, she really was. Everyone had been kind and compassionate and they tried not to press.

But she wished they would. She wished they were bolder, more direct. They’d promised her that the Lord of Imladris would meet with her when he felt it necessary, but she didn’t necessarily believe it. She was never one to impose her problems on others, for everyone shouldered their own hidden burdens, and so in the weeks she’d been in the valley, she’d never said a word. 

She couldn’t help but think that this most recent breakdown might’ve been prevented if someone hadn’t held their tongue. Whether that someone was her, or one of the Elves, she might never know. 

What she did know, was that a pair of warm hands had settled suddenly on her shoulders, and a concerned face framed by small, dark braids was trying to peer at her from behind her own curtain of hair. Oddly enough, she hadn’t noticed the tears pooling in her eyes until she tried to look the stranger in the face—and failed. Even through the blur in her vision, she could recognize the stony gaze of the Elf Lord, and shuddered beneath the weight of his stare. 

Why did it have to be him? 

Breaking down alone was humiliating enough, but to fall to pieces before the Lord of Imladris, the legendary warrior and ruler of the valley, was a new level of shame. He had welcomed her warmly several weeks before, always gentle and respectful of her privacy, but there was a hardness there that frightened her, something about him that suggested a tender heart and a steely temperament in equal measure. She had heard tales of his courage, of long grey days that brought him stumbling home dripping with black Orc blood, his cloak hanging in tatters. Likewise, she had heard tales of his infinite kindness and his selfless desire to heal the wounds of the afflicted, but she never imagined that she might find that same kindness kneeling next to her on the tile. And yet, here he was. 

“What is it, penneth?” he asked softly, one hand coming up to rest lightly over her hair. “What is the matter?” 

She was silent for a long moment or two. Maybe because her answer could not be expressed in a mere sentence or two. Or maybe because she was now finding it more difficult to breathe, embarrassed and hopeless as she was. His hand withdrew from her head, and she feared the worst. 

So he thought her a hopeless case too? The famed healer, compassionate heart and all, could not find it in himself to fix her, and she suddenly felt cold with fear. Really, she couldn’t blame him if he thought her silly, or even irredeemable; a parent’s illness was a lesser problem than what he surely must have seen in all his years, and she had no right to claim that agony for herself while others suffered all the greater. Her chest heaved in deep gasps now as she struggled to maintain the mask that threatened to slip. She’d longed for someone to be there, for someone to ask, and now that someone had, she wasn’t sure if she could do it. 

Wasn’t sure if she had any right to do it. What made her troubles so unique? Her father wasn’t even dead, for Eru’s sake. She was weak. Weak and worst of all, pathetic, and the Lord of Imladris likely knew this too. Before she could catch it and choke it back, a sob tore from her throat, and she seemed to watch from a distance as her resolve crumbled altogether. For a moment, she thought for sure the Elf Lord had gone, but suddenly he was there again, he was murmuring soothingly to her, his hands gently pushing her to the floor.

“Deep breaths, penneth,” he encouraged her softly, helping to guide her slowly onto her side. One hand rested on the point of her shoulder, the solid strength warm and unwavering, and she was thankful. So thankful. She reluctantly obeyed his soft command, though she scarcely made any progress at first. 

“Good, good,” he praised, his hand now rubbing reassuringly against her back. She clutched at the sleeve of his robe, irrationally afraid that he might suddenly leave her here, an utter mess in the middle of the parlor. He smoothed the hair from her face and hushed her in reply. 

“I’m here, child. I’m here. You are not alone. ” His voice was a balm over her ears, his hand and the fabric of his robes an anchor that kept her from floating off and far, far away. Already, the air seemed less heavy, and her breathing had eased, though not enough that the Elf Lord felt the need to leave her side. It was silent now, save for the quiet things he murmured above her, things she supposed were meant to draw her attention away from her own distress. He smoothed her hair every so often, and seemed pleased when it helped to relieve a fraction more of the tension from her rigid body. 

“M-My father is i-ill.” Was that her voice speaking? A glance at the Elf Lord’s face told her it was, for his brow furrowed in concern and his hand stilled in her hair. “H-He’s been s-s-sick for two y-years and I’m a-afraid he w-w-won’t get b-better a-again.”

“Oh, child,” he breathed, eyes wide and looking for all the world like it was the first time he’d heard this information. She found that a bit odd, given she had been assured that the elf lord would speak with her about her troubles in due time. She looked back into his face through her tears, and watched as he shook his head in bewilderment and struggled to find his words. Finally, his hand came back to rest on her cheek, its weight warm and comforting.

“Why did you not say so?” he asked gently, “You are always welcome to share your burdens, penneth. Surely you know that.” She heaved a tremulous sigh and moved to sit up, her head swimming with the change in position. His hand never left, coming now to grasp her shoulder in a firm hold. 

“Am I really so frightening that you would choose to hold all of this in instead of asking for help?” he mused, a small smile playing over his lips. She made a helpless gesture toward the door, the tears returning full force as her frustration grew. 

“I thought they h-had told y-you already,” she insisted, shrinking away slightly when his gaze turned stony and dark. “M-my mother s-said when sh-she left me here th-that your healing staff h-had been given a f-full report that they w-would then pass on to y-you.” It was quiet for a long moment, and she felt uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze, though she could see now that his ire was not directed at her. “I thought y-you were too b-busy…” she finished lamely, wondering if she looked as pathetic as her voice made her sound. 

His hand came then to left her chin gently, and his eyes bored into hers. She could see his temper had flared in the blue-grey of his eyes, but there was a tenderness present also and she clung to it. 

“I am gravely disappointed in the incompetence of my staff,” he practically growled, “Not only because they failed to inform me of your needs as our guest, but moreso because they have allowed you to continue in your sadness seemingly without a second thought.” He paused then, a grieved expression creeping slowly over his features.

“I do not intend to allow you to carry this alone any longer,” the elf lord said solemnly. Much to her embarrassment, the tears she’d been trying so desperately to hold back trickled down her cheeks and a sob was wrenched forth from her chest. How long had she wanted someone, anyone, to say something like that? His expression seemed to crumble a little, blue-grey eyes once again soft and sad, and he slowly removed his hand from her chin to extend both arms in invitation.

He needn’t have asked. 

She flew into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist in a vice-like grip. She twisted and clenched the folds of his robes in her trembling hands, becoming frightened and more than a little embarrassed when he hesitated in returning the contact. Oh, she knew she shouldn’t have been such an imbecile over something that wasn’t even worth her tears, and now she’d gone and startled the Lord of Imladris with her theatrics. Any minute now and he’d shove her away and stalk off to clean his robes of her tears and snot. Any minute now he’d—

Suddenly his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her with a strength that both surprised and soothed her all at once. He slowly pulled her closer from where she sat crumpled on the floor until her face was pressed firmly to his chest and rubbed a warm hand slowly over her shoulders. His kindness even in her upset was enough to crush the last of her resolve and try as she might, the tears would just not cease.

She cried in long, pained wails that frightened her with their intensity, as if she were an injured beast and not a person. The Lord of Imladris said nothing for a long while, though he now rested his chin over the top of her head as he rocked her gently on the tile. 

It hurt. She’d felt pangs here and there throughout her father’s diagnosis and subsequent treatment, but never so raw and encompassing like this. There was fear also, growing and clawing its way to the surface until all she could do was shake. 

“Hush, child,” he said mildly, rubbing her shoulders once more, “It’s all right now. It’s all right…” He pulled her closer, even as she trembled all the harder, and held her steady for a long while until her tears ran dry. She still shook in his embrace, but only in fine tremors. She found it odd that he continued to rock them both on the floor even after she’d grown quiet, but she made no move to let go.

“There now,” the elf lord said soothingly, giving her a tight squeeze before leaning back just enough to smile down at her. Timidly, she returned his gaze, though she still managed to stay curled against his chest. 

“You shan’t be alone any longer, penneth,” he murmured, long fingers stroking softly through her hair, “You have my word on that.” 

“Th-Thank you,” came her voice in reply, hoarse and reed-like in the aftermath of her upset. He squeezed her again, chuckling softly in a way that rumbled against her cheek from where it rested against his chest. She smiled in spite of herself, swiped at her eyes, and reluctantly pulled away at last. The lord of Imladris was smiling kindly at her, one of his hands wrapping around her own and then pulling her gently to her feet.

“I think perhaps some tea is in order,” he said thoughtfully, large hand giving her smaller one a firm squeeze. “Care to join me?” She nodded gratefully, smiling her thanks, and trailed closely behind as he led her out the door and down the hall.

Imladris in June was a sight to behold, trees shining golden-green in the sunlight and laughter like bells rattling through the courtyard. The sun was bright in the valley this day, and she couldn’t help but think to herself that today was a hopeful day of sorts. 

Her problems hadn’t been solved. Her father hadn’t been cured, and her pain hadn’t been suddenly whisked away.

But a glance down at the hand that held hers was enough to hold the fear at bay, even for just one afternoon. Someone had finally stepped in, someone who understood the things that haunted her on the lonelier days.

And wherever he led, she’d follow.


End file.
